Crazy Capers
by MissEclipse
Summary: A short collection of crazy capers featuring Crazy Max Klinger of MASH 4077 and Howlin' Mad Murdock of the A-Team!
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own these two adorable characters._**

 **Chapter 1: Making waves!**

[ _Timeline: 4077_ _th_ _M*A*S*H, South Korea – 1951_ ]

"Excuse me, ma'am, is anyone sitting here?"

Klinger looked up from his food tray to see a tall, lanky-looking pilot smiling amiably at him from under the brim of his non-military, dark blue baseball cap. He wore one of the customary flight jackets, with a very fierce looking tiger design displayed on the back.

His face showed no signs of being concerned to see the very macho-looking, Lebanese Corporal wearing a WAVES' uniform. This consisted of a narrow navy blue, six panel skirt and matching fitted jacket. A perky blue and white hat sat jauntily on his head. The pilot instantly recognised the white anchors on the round collar lapels, depicting the " _Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service_ " insignia. He knew that WAVES was a division of the US Navy during WW2.

With the Mess Tent filled to capacity, Klinger gestured indifferently at the seat opposite him. The pilot perched himself down on the end of the bench, placing his tray carefully on the table. Klinger had seen him round the camp on several occasions. He was known as Captain HM Murdock and had a reputation for being a zany, madcap pilot whose initials apparently stood for "Howlin' Mad". His unique war cry during take-off had amused both the troops and the casualties!

Klinger glanced up at Murdock every now and then, noticing how he seemed to be distracted by something down on the floor by his feet. His bushy eyebrows arched in further bewilderment as he saw the pilot breaking off pieces of his food, before tossing it casually on to the ground. He was murmuring something under his breath, as if he was talking with someone. Klinger leant sideways as he peered down at the ground, curious as to who the pilot was talking to. His forehead puckered up into a frown as he saw nothing but empty space.

"Come on Billy-boy," crooned Murdock, in a concerned voice. "You've gotta eat somethin'."

Klinger stared at Murdock in astonishment. The pilot must have caught his eye, because he spoke, rather apologetically to the Corporal, in a fretful voice.

"It's ma dawg, Billy," he said, in a thick Texan twang. He pointed down at his feet as if to clarify his point. "He ain't been eating well lately. I'm that vexed about him."

"Sure, Captain," replied Klinger, rather nervously. "Whatever you say."

Murdock patted the air below him, in a soothing manner. Klinger continued to stare at him, rather incredulously at first and then gradually with suspicion. He wasn't used to seeing anyone else acting so peculiar – that was usually his job! Other people were also beginning to look over at the eccentric pilot with puzzled expressions on their faces. Feeling rather put-out by someone else grabbing his "crazy" limelight, Klinger decided to play along with the Captain's little performance.

"I guess the food here is enough to turn anyone's stomach," he drawled, as he also threw a piece of food down on the ground by the Captain's feet.

His response was met with a loud guffaw by Murdock, who obviously appreciated the remark – and the gesture. His brown eyes flashed back mischievously at Klinger, who despite himself, found himself returning the pilot's inane grin with his own roguish smirk.

"Is Billy your co-pilot?" he asked, in a genuinely interested voice.

"Sometimes," said Murdock. "Depends whether or not my whirlybird is picking up a full load."

"How does he know where to find you?" continued Klinger.

"Oh, he just does," said Murdock, somewhat vaguely. Klinger couldn't help notice that the friendly sparkle faded from the pilot's eyes, just for a few seconds, before they lit up again with enthusiastic lunacy.

"I hope you don't mind me asking," enquired Murdock, politely. "But isn't that a Second World War, US Navy uniform you're wearing?"

"Correct!" concurred Klinger, proudly.

"But you do realise you've missed the boat by about five years?" reiterated Murdock. "Plus you're in the wrong regiment!"

"Exactly my point," responded Klinger, brightly. "They're gonna have to send me back home now!"

A wave of recognition swept across the pilot's face. He had heard all about a certain Corporal Klinger from 4077th M*A*S*H, who was well-known for his extreme scams to get out of the army by acting crazy! Murdock hid a wistful smile behind his napkin. Looked like he had competition!

Not that Murdock was particularly bucking for a Section 8. Ironically, flying was the only thing that kept him grounded. In the air he was in control and at one with the world and his aircraft. On the ground he became as fragile and unstable as a fawn taking its first steps.

"Nice bit of jazz you've got going down," he said, the bemused expression on his face letting the Corporal know he approved of his game plan.

"Jazz?" queried Klinger, innocently.

"Yeah, the jazz!" repeated Murdock. "It's something a friend of mine excels in – you know - getting a kick out of running a scam!"

Klinger feigned an offended posture as he rose dramatically from the bench.

"Well I can't sit around here all day," he retorted. "Anchors aweigh me shipmate!"

He gave the Captain a brisk, military salute and then took his leave. Murdock chuckled to himself as he heard the Corporal singing the WAVES' song, with great gusto at the top of his voice:

 _There's a ship sailing down the bay.  
And she won't slip into port again,  
until that Victory Day.  
Carry on for that gallant ship.  
And for every hero brave,  
who will find ashore,  
his man-sized chore,  
was done by a Navy WAVE._

Murdock dutifully tidied up before leaving the Mess Tent. As he sauntered casually through the camp, two dark, beady eyes watched him, attentively, from the entrance of the clerk's office. Murdock appeared to be throwing sticks to his _imaginary_ dog in an animated fashion. Several passer-by's were looking at him with quite a bit of amusement on their faces.

" _This guy's good_!" thought Klinger to himself. He was going to have to seriously up the ante if he was going to stand any chance of competing with the screwball pilot!

[ ** _AN: Thanks for reading. This idea was given to me by another Fanfiction author almost a year ago. Hoping to post another chapter soon, depending on whether or not I figure out where I'm going with this!_** ** _Please R &R and if you get the chance, let me know what you think._**]


	2. Chapter 2

[ ** _AN: Radar appeared as a regular character in M*A*S*H. I'm thinking I'll alternate posting this story between the A-Team and MASH sites, as it didn't get very many views on the Cross-Over site._** ]

 **Chapter 2: Paper and rock**

HM Murdock sauntered across the compound as he made his way to the clerk's office. On entering the room, he was met by a scene of utter chaos and devastation. Filing cabinets had been pulled open and the contents of the folders had been flung haphazardly on the ground. Army forms and other paper documents were also strewn around the room.

Sitting on the floor, in the midst of it all, was Corporal Klinger, looking very fetching in a short-sleeved, pink satin knee-length dress. A lacy-layered frill adorned the neck and hem, with a fake diamond tiara and matching chandelier earrings completing the outfit.

The pilot blinked in amusement at the rather bizarre vision in front of him. But not to be outdone, he sat down in an empty chair and removed a 14 pound rock from his rucksack. He placed it carefully on the desk in front of him, muttering to it lovingly. He surreptitiously glanced sideways at the Corporal, waiting for some sort of response.

But Klinger seemed oblivious to the Captain and his companion. He continued his frantic search for whatever it was he was looking for, picking up random pieces of paper and throwing them away in frustration.

He then got up and started rummaging through the contents on the desk, reading every piece of paper he picked up with a great deal of concentration. Then he would screw it up and throw it away over his shoulder, muttering " _No, that's not it_ " angrily to himself. It was only when he started to rifle through the bin, that the pilot could contain his curiosity no more.

"I say old bean," he said in a near perfect British accent, dodging the candy wrappers and discarded newspapers that were being tossed in his direction. "You're making the most frightful mess. What exactly are you looking for?"

It was at that moment that the company clerk walked into the room. He flung his hands up in horror when he saw the mess in his office.

"Jiminy Crickets, Klinger!" he screeched irritably. "What have you done to my office!"

"You gotta help me find it, Radar!" lamented Klinger dramatically. "I can't stand it here any longer! I've gotta get out!"

"You better clear all this mess up before the Colonel sees it," warned Radar. "Or he'll kick your ass before you can say Section 8."

"That's it, that's it!" exclaimed Klinger in excitement. "That's what I'm looking for! You better give it to me Radar, or I'm gonna tear up this camp looking at every bit of paper until I get it!"

Radar groaned and rolled his eyes towards the heavens as the penny dropped. This was just another one of Klinger's schemes to get out the army. Deciding to play along with his little charade, he walked over to the filing cabinet and handed the form to Klinger.

"You wanna know somethin'?" said Radar, as he looked round the ransacked room. "The Colonel just might buy it this time."

"You better believe it, kid!" said Klinger. "Where is the Colonel now, Radar?"

"He's in post-op making his rounds," replied Radar.

Klinger smoothed down his dress in a business-like manner and strode confidently to the door. As an after-thought he turned back to Radar, a puzzled frown puckering up his eyebrows.

"Hey?" he said quizzically. "I went all through the "S" section in your filing cabinet and I didn't see no Section 8 forms."

"That's because they're filed under " _O_ " for " _Out of here_ "," answered Radar, slightly perplexed as to why Klinger should be so confused over his alphabetical filing system.

"Of course!" concurred Klinger, as if it all suddenly made sense. He turned to give Murdock a quick glance, muttered something about liking his rock and then rushed out of the room to find the Colonel.

"Sorry about that, Captain," said Radar, apologetically, sitting down in his chair.

"That's quite alright, Corporal", said Murdock, shaking his head in a sympathetic manner. "What a very sad state of affairs."

"What can I do for you, Sir?" asked Radar.

Murdock rose from his seat, at the same time as picking up his rock.

 _We've_ come to pick up one of your officers and fly him to Tokyo for the Medical Conference," said Murdock, gently patting the rock.

"Erm, _we_ Sir?" enquired Radar, looking rather dubiously at the pilot.

"Yes, me and Rocky here," enthused Murdock. "Isn't he fabulous? He's my best friend you know. We've been through many a journey together. He's as solid as … well … as a rock!

"Whatever you say, Captain," said Radar, apprehensively. "If you turn right out of here and make your way towards The Swamp, Major Burns will be waiting for you.

"The Swamp?" repeated Murdock. "How quaint! Come along Rocky. Another adventure awaits us!"

Murdock flung his rucksack over his shoulder and cradled Rocky in his hands.

"Tally-ho!" he said brightly to Radar, who very slowly raised his hand to salute the Captain, looking slightly agog at the same time.

Once the pilot left the office, Radar scratched his head in bewilderment. He opened up one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out his teddy bear.

"Jeez! Just went I thought I'd seen it all," he pondered loudly to his bear.

He gave his bear a quick hug, sighing deeply at the wonderment of all the insanity!

[ ** _AN: Hmmm, this got a bit disjointed! I'm hoping the next chapter will feature more of a Klinger/Murdock interaction._** ** _Thanks for reading and for all the interest in the story so far._** ** _As always, reviews/comments/ideas very welcome._** ]


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Crusader Rabbit**

HM Murdock and Corporal Klinger were sitting together at a table in Rosie's Bar. Klinger, in his official capacity as corpsman, had just finished a very long stint of OR duties. Murdock had made several dangerous and harrowing trips in his chopper, carrying casualties from the Front to the M*A*S*H unit. Both looked completely shell-shocked and weary.

Murdock sat with his untouched whiskey in his hands. Try as he might, he couldn't get the image of his last casualty out of his mind. The soldier's dog tags revealed his name formerly as Fisher, Daniel and the young Private couldn't have been any older than 17 or 18 years of age. With half of his head blown away, the pilot wasn't even sure if he was going to make it.

"This Police Action sure does love to take its victims young," he sighed, not speaking to anybody in particular.

Klinger looked up from his beer, nodding in agreement.

"Police Action – my eye!" he scoffed. "Those bureaucratic bigwigs ought to come up and take a good look round this hospital someday. Then they'd see this ain't no Police Action!"

Murdock glanced at Klinger with a surprised look on his face. They had bumped into each other quite a bit over the last few weeks and had spent most of their time trying to out-do each other with their own brand of craziness. This was the first time he had seen the hairy Lebanese soldier in such a sombre mood.

The pilot had been very impressed to see how good Klinger had been at his job. He had gone about his duty with a degree of humour, compassion and dedication. Murdock had also noticed how conservatively dressed he was, in just a plain white nurse's uniform and hat. Almost as if he didn't feel his usual extravagant style would be appropriate for the OR. Downing his whiskey in one go, he banged his glass down on the table and leant across the table to address the Corporal.

"You know, what we need is a change of scenery," he said, ardently.

"Got anywhere in mind?" asked Klinger, immediately recognising the hint of high-spirited enthusiasm flashing in the pilot's brown eyes.

"Well," replied Murdock. "I'm thinking of going to Texas and helping Crusader Rabbit in his quest to save all the other jack rabbits. Those little critters are being run out of town by that son of a gun, Dead-Eye Dobbins. I've heard he's the rootines, tootiness, sharpest shooter in San Anton!"

Klinger stifled a wry smile. He had come to learn that Murdock's eccentricities seem to escalate when he'd had a bad day at the office, so to speak.

"Texans!" he mocked. "Holy Toledo! We could whip them easily. They ain't nothin' but singers and cowboys! But are you sure you can find Texas from here?"

"No problemo," replied Murdock. "I looked it up in the dictionary. It's between " _Terror_ " and " _Thanksgiving_!""

"Oh I like Thanksgiving!" enthused Klinger. "Turkey; stuffing; cranberry sauce; pumpkin pie …."

"Of course organisation is the important thing," continued Murdock, narrowing his eyes seriously as he considered all the options. "My bird can get us to Route 87½ but then we'll probably run out of fuel. We'll still have to get across to Cactus Creek to find Dead-Eye Dobbins. That's gonna mean crossing the desert through the Chisolm Trail; across the old Western Trail; down the Goodnight Trail; along the Shawney Trail …."

"Hey, that means we're gonna need a camel," interrupted Klinger. "My Uncle Achmed does a great line in camels!"

"Splendid, splendid!" concurred Murdock. "We should start making a list, coz every Fighting Nighthawk Commando should go prepared. Let's see now. We'll need sleeping bags; footlockers; a radio …."

"... cream puffs!" interjected Klinger.

"And a canoe would be handy," continued Murdock.

"And more cream puffs!" insisted Klinger.

"Then when we've sorted Dobbins out, we need to go see the Chief Hare Remover and get him to change the laws about rabbiting," said Murdock. "Jumpin' Grasshoppers! It makes me hopping mad and fit to be tied when I think how those little critters are suffering!"

"I wonder what a budding crusader is wearing in the desert these days?" pondered Klinger. "Do you think my beige, cotton safari dress would be ok? I've got a great straw bonnet to compliment it. Or maybe I should just stick with the conventional trouser and jacket ensemble?"

"We'll be a regular 2-man army," affirmed Murdock. "Hey, maybe we could even specialise in crusader work after Korea?"

"Yeah!" agreed Klinger. "We could set weekly or monthly crusader rates. We could even do a bargain day for widows and orphans!"

"As an old Colonel buddy of mine says," beamed Murdock. "Don't you just love it when a plan comes together!"

The two men happily went over their plan, fine-tuning all the details. Then one of the surgeons came in and went over to speak with Murdock. He was still wearing his scrubs, which unfortunately showed the tell-tale signs of blood-splattered injuries. The pilot immediately recognised him as Captain Pierce, one of the doctors who worked on the young soldier he had brought in a few hours earlier in his whirlybird.

"Captain Murdock," said Pierce. "A call has just come through that there is a soldier out in the field with a bad chest wound. Would you be able to fly me out there?"

"Sure, Doc," replied Murdock, immediately jumping to his feet. "Hey, by the way. What happened to Private Fisher? Did he make it?"

Captain Pierce shook his head sadly. A dark, pained expression eclipsed the pilot's previous cheerful nature.

"Only the dead have seen the end of this war," he muttered quietly to Klinger.

Before Klinger could respond the PA system crackled loudly in the background, accompanied by the sound of approaching ambulances in the compound.

" _Attention all personnel. Sorry, folks, but we're having a welcoming medical convention in the compound._ _Grab a friend and report for duty - on the double!_ "

"Back to reality," sighed Klinger, as he dragged himself up from his seat. "I guess sometimes we have to win the small battles before we can win the war."

"A bit like Crusader Rabbit," answered Murdock, as they both followed Captain Pierce out of the bar.

Klinger gave Murdock a reassuring pat on the back before they stepped back into their own separate worlds of isolation and fantasy.

[ ** _AN: Thank-you for reading. Crusader Rabbit was a bona fide cartoon character, who appeared on TV screens between 1949 and 1959_** _._ ]


End file.
